


Ophidiophobia

by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead



Series: Broken Dreams [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Assassin AU, M/M, characters and ships will be added as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead/pseuds/All_My_Characters_Are_Dead
Summary: Fear the snakes; they don't care who they take, as long as whoever they get lives up to their expectations. 
a series of oneshots explaining the backgrounds of different characters from Anguis.





	1. Futakuchi

Kenji hummed to himself as he left the locker room. His teammates were still inside, chatting and laughing, still glowing with victory, even if it was just the first round of the tournament. Still, Kenji was proud of them, and while he wanted to celebrate with them, he also wanted a moment to himself to enjoy the team’s success and let them be excited without their captain present. 

“Your team just won, right?” Kenji paused and studied the person who had just addressed him, a young man who looked like he couldn’t be more than a year or two older than Kenji himself. The stranger had a cheerful but oddly polite smile, and Kenji’s first thought was that he was the spitting image of a good student, his hair neatly combed and his outfit nondescript. Kenji’s second thought was that the guy was really pretty, with warm, inviting eyes and grinning lips that he really, really would like to kiss. 

“Yeah. Were you watching?” Kenji asked, eyeing the stranger speculatively. 

“Of course I was. Your team was amazing,” the stranger replied, stepping closer so he was looking up at Kenji with those wide, warm eyes, and Kenji had to stop himself from leaning down into the guy’s space. “I really liked watching you play.” 

“Our team’s got a good chance at making it to the finals this time,” Kenji replied, trying to put his usual confidence into his tone and failing because oh, now the pretty stranger was leaning up, and he was way, way too close to Kenji’s face and Kenji  _ really _ wanted to kiss him, but that would be a  _ very _ bad idea since he didn’t even know this guy’s name. 

“I wasn’t watching your team. I was watching you,” the stranger admitted, his hands coming up to rest on Kenji’s upper arms, fingertips skimming over Kenji’s skin and making him shiver. “Are you as strong as you look on the court?” The question was a purr, the stranger’s lips dangerously close to Kenji’s. Kenji gulped, knowing he should probably step back but held in place by the stranger’s seemingly innocent and admiring gaze and the light touch on his arms. 

“Depends on how strong you think I look,” Kenji managed, the words not coming out as smoothly as he would have liked. The stranger hummed thoughtfully and skimmed his fingertips up Kenji’s arms until he could wrap his arms around Kenji’s neck, bringing his body flush against Kenji’s. He had to force down an embarrassing whimper as the stranger stretched up even further, his lips just barely brushing Kenji’s as he spoke. 

“Why don’t you show me how strong you are, and we’ll see if you meet my expectations,” the stranger murmured. Kenji lowered his head, giving in to the temptation of the stranger’s lips, and in the same instant their mouths connected and Kenji’s eyes fluttered closed at the soft warmth, there was a sharp prick at the back of his neck. 

Before he could even register the sensation, his knees were giving out and he fell, his vision going dark before he hit the floor.

* * *

 

Kenji woke in a room he didn’t recognize and bolted upright. The last thing he remembered was kissing a stranger after the volleyball match…

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. Yaku said if you slept much longer he’d be worried about you.” Kenji scanned the room and found the stranger from before leaning against the wall. 

“Where am I? What did you do to me?” Kenji demanded, throwing off the blanket that had been covering him and started to get up. 

“Don’t,” the stranger warned. Kenji stood anyway - or tried to. His legs refused to hold him, and he collapsed, grabbing onto the bed as he went down, catching himself halfway. After a moment, though, his arms started to shake, and his grip on the edge of the bed slipped. Kenji ended up sitting on the floor with his legs halfway tucked underneath him. “I tried to warn you, Kenji.” Kenji tensed and stared up at the stranger as he crossed the room and stood over Kenji. 

“How did you know my name?” Kenji hissed, glaring up at him. 

“Well, I had to make sure you would meet my expectations. Of course I did a little research on you,” the stranger said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Kenji stares at him, wondering how much this stranger knows. Does he know about Kenji’s family, about his parents who he hardly ever sees? Does he know about Kenji’s tiny apartment down the road from the neighborhood where half his teammates live? Does he know about Kenji organizing extra team bonding exercises just so none of his teammates - himself included - are alone over school breaks? “Kenji, I need you to listen to me, okay? I brought you to the home of an organization called Anguis Ophidio. You’re in one of our spare rooms, and it’s where you’re going to live from now on, okay?” Kenji blinked and focused on the stranger. 

“What? No, I have to go home-”

“No, you don’t. Your parents won’t notice you’re gone until your team calls them to see if they’ve heard from you. Your team has probably already noticed you’re gone, but they don’t have time to panic and try to look for you, since they have a tournament going on. I’m sure they’re blowing up your cell phone right now, but that doesn’t matter, because I already gave it to the analysts to deal with. This is your home now,” the stranger snapped. Kenji fought back the rising fear that threatened to clog his throat. 

“You can’t keep me here,” he snapped, trying to make the words come out with something resembling force. Instead, they came out weak and unsure. 

“I can, actually. While you were asleep, one of our techs put a chip in your brain that lets me control you. The commands are fairly simple, and they’re rather limited, but with enough creativity, they get the job done,” the stranger replied. Kenji’s hands flew to the back of his head, feeling for any sort of incision. When his fingertips brushed over a bandage at the back of his neck, right where his spine joined his skull, he froze. 

“You’re lying,” Kenji whispered. 

“I’m not. I have no reason to lie to you. After all, you’re one of my dogs now,” the stranger replied. Kenji’s fingers clenched, and his hands dropped to his lap, balled into fists as he glared at the stranger with renewed vigor. 

“Your  _ what _ ? What kind of twisted-”

“I’m going to train you to become an assassin,” the stranger interrupted. “With your strength, stamina, speed, and reflexes, you’ll learn quickly. And once you’re ready, I’ll send you out with my other hunting dog, and you two will do whatever I tell you to.” 

“Make me,” Kenji snarled. The stranger laughed and tangled his fingers in Kenji’s hair, wrenching his head back painfully. 

“Oh, trust me. I will. Kenji, down,” he ordered. Kenji opened his mouth to sneer that he wasn’t a  _ dog _ , no matter what this guy said, and he didn’t follow orders like one, but instead of words, a scream erupted from his throat as pure agony lanced down his spine, spreading to his chest and stomach and then to his limbs. The blazing agony was  _ everywhere _ , and Kenji’s vision went hazy. HIs body jerked uncontrollably, writhing in an instinctive attempt to  _ escape  _ the  _ all-consuming pain _ . 

Kenji screamed, and struggled, but the pain didn’t fade until the stranger murmured, “Kenji, enough.” 

And just like that, the excruciating sensations were gone, leaving a desperate ache in his bones and a throbbing behind his eyes. Kenji’s hair was still being pulled, his head still yanked back at an uncomfortable angle, and when he opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - he found himself staring up at the stranger. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision, but not enough to keep him from seeing the satified smile twisting the stranger’s lips. 

“My name is Yahaba Shigeru, by the way. I’m your handler,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll finish breaking you in today, and you’ll meet my other dog tomorrow. You should remember to be nice to him, by the way. He’ll be the one watching your back, and you’ll watch his.” Kenji trembled, whether from fear at what it might mean for the stranger - for Yahaba - to  _ ‘finish breaking him in’ _ or from the lingering ache from the blinding pain, or both, he wasn’t sure. “Oh, one more thing. Your partner, my other hunting dog? He and I are the only ones who’ll be calling you Kenji. Everyone else around here will call you Futakuchi.” Kenji shuddered, hating the way his name sounded on Yahaba’s lips. 

Had he really been desperate to kiss those cruel lips just...however long ago the end of the volleyball match had been? Had he really thought those eyes were wide and innocent and admiring?

Maybe they had been, at the time. But now there was only cold calculation in that gaze, and only a stern, almost cruel, set to that mouth. 

Kenji shuddered and fought back a sob as he realized this might be all his future was, now. Cold calculation and cruel discipline. And, of course, excruciating pain that seemed to have been triggered by Yahaba’s words. 


	2. Sugawara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Suga got Ushijima and Tendou as his assassin team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so heads up Suga is in a situation where he's basically sleeping with his boss for protection for his assassins. If that's not your thing, you might want to skip this chapter, or at least skip to the first line break.

“You've been too soft on them. You don't even make them kill. Your team has failed too many times, and I  _ know _ I trained you better. So I'm giving you a choice, since you're my favorite. You can be retired with them, like Daishou wants, or you can take care of the problem, and I’ll give you a new team.” Miya’s voice is sharp and unforgiving, and Koushi has to force himself not to flinch. He’s learned the hard way that showing weakness in front of Miya is a  _ really, really _ bad plan. 

He didn’t have many options here, and he knew it. Koushi was glad his hands were already neatly behind his back, because he could let himself clench them into fists, his nails digging into his palms until he worried they might bleed. 

“Koushi,” Miya murmured, moving closer. Koushi forced his body to relax, forced himself to lean in when Miya’s hands came to rest on his hips. “I know this is will be hard for you, but I think you’re an asset. Daishou won’t let me keep making exceptions for your team much longer, no matter how... _ persuasive _ you are in convincing me to do so.” Koushi closes his eyes and tilts his head, and a moment later he feels Miya’s mouth wandering over his throat. “You’ll make the right choice, won’t you, Koushi?” For a moment, Koushi considers his options. 

He’s put  _ everything _ into keeping his two assassins safe and sane. He’s done whatever it took to make sure that timid, shaking Asahi didn’t have to kill, because he knew that would break the giant but fragile man. He’d given his all to make sure that sweet, strong Daichi didn’t have to use his strength to hurt too many people too badly. Koushi had given anything and everything Miya wanted in exchange for being able to choose the easy missions, the information retrieval missions, anything that didn’t involve requiring them to fulfill their label of assassins. 

But now they’d be retired, and Koushi along with them, if he didn’t do something. Retirement, of course, didn’t mean being sworn to secrecy and sent on to try to live normal lives. 

No, if Koushi allowed his assassins to be retired, they’d be given to the science division to be used for experiments, or tortured by recruits who needed practice. 

“Koushi?” Miya prompted, hands slipping under Koushi’s shirt to slide, warm and uncomfortably familiar, over his stomach and sides. 

“I’ll handle them,” Koushi assured him, letting his body react to Miya’s touch and bringing his own hands up to tangle in Miya’s hair. 

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” Miya approved, teeth catching on Koushi’s earlobe and tugging. Koushi focused on the sensation, a small moan passing his lips as he gave himself over to whatever Miya wanted. After all, Koushi might be forced to  _ handle _ his current pair of assassins, but he needed to stay in Miya’s good graces in order to get a good replacement team.

* * *

 

Koushi wanted nothing more than to go to his own room, collapse onto his bed, and go to sleep. Or...maybe a shower to get the lingering sensation of Miya’s touch off his skin would be better. Yeah, a shower would be good. First, though, he had to keep his promise to Miya and take care of the two assassins under his care. If they stuck to their usual daily training, they’d be just finishing their workouts for the day. 

Koushi stepped into the gym the assassins used and spotted his pair easily. They were just heading for the locker rooms, hair and skin damp with sweat. Koushi felt his forehead wrinkling in a worried frown; Daichi and Asahi didn’t usually look so tired after a workout. Koushi’s gaze jumped to the people closest to them. Ah, so that’s why they looked more worn out. Iwaizumi and Kindaichi were right there, and between Daichi’s competitive nature and Asahi’s habit of just going along with whatever Daichi did when they worked out, they’d probably ended up trying to compete with whatever workout Iwaizumi and his over eager partner were doing. Koushi shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. 

“Suga! Do we have a mission?” Daichi called, noticing Koushi and making his way over. Iwaizumi and Kindaichi paused, glancing in Koushi’s direction just as Koushi’s mouth set in a grimace. 

“No, we don’t,” Koushi said quietly. “Come with me.” He turned on his heel and led them out of the gym. 

“Suga, what’s going on?” Daichi demanded, hurrying to catch up with him. Asahi trailed behind them, already a nervous wreck. Koushi didn’t answer right away, but he felt Daichi’s gaze on him, searching for some sign of what was wrong. Koushi knew the exact moment Daichi noticed the bite marks just above his collar. “Did he hurt you?” Koushi had to laugh at the protective snarl in Daichi’s voice, but it was a bitter, broken laugh, and the sound told Daichi that the nagging feeling he had that something was horribly wrong wasn’t unfounded. 

“I think you two are the only assassins soft enough to care about your handler so much,” Koushi mused, glancing over his shoulder at them. Asahi’s eyes were wide with fear and concern, while Daichi’s narrowed suspiciously. 

“You’ve always agreed that the three of us caring about each other is what makes us strong,” Daichi reminded him. 

“I know. And I still believe that. It’s what kept us all sane, I think,” Koushi admitted. They reached Koushi’s room, and he beckoned them inside. Daichi and Asahi exchanged nervous glances but followed him inside without protest. Koushi waits until one of them - he has his back to them, so he doesn’t see which one - closes the door. “Daichi, still. Asahi, still,” Koushi orders. When he finally turned to face them, they were staring at him with wide, confused eyes. Daichi made a questioning noise, his jaw frozen shut from the command, preventing him from forming actual words. 

Koushi approached them, lifted one hand to Daichi’s cheek and the other to Asahi’s. He had to do this. For their sakes, and for his own, and for the sake of whoever Miya had in mind to hand over to him if he did what Miya wanted. 

“Miya’s done making allowances for us,” Koushi whispered. “I’m sorry, but if I don’t do this, he’s going to retire you and hand you over to Yaku’s people. I can’t let that happen.”  Koushi ignored the sudden muffled, desperate cries from Daichi and Asahi as he stepped back. “Asahi,” Koushi said softly, his voice catching. “Die.”

Asahi dropped to the floor, a scream tearing from his mouth as the command he’d just been given wiped out the previous command to be still. Koushi flinched; he’d never seen the termination command used before. He had thought it was a quick, painless death. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Daichi, die,” Koushi blurted out before he lost his nerve. Then Daichi’s screams mingled with Asahi’s.

* * *

 

Koushi didn’t know how long he sat on the floor of his room, staring at his two assassins. His two...well, he wasn’t sure if they counted as his friends. But they were  _ something _ . A faint line of blood trailed from Daichi’s nose, across his lips, and to his chin. Asahi’s eyes were fixed open, blankly staring at the far wall. 

“Koushi,” Miya’s voice murmured. Koushi tensed; he hadn’t heard Miya come in. There was a soft touch at the back of his neck, a comforting hand resting firmly against his skin. “You made the right choice, Koushi,” Miya assured him. Koushi didn’t move. Didn’t know how to react. “You got attached,” Miya sighed. “How many times did I tell you not to do that?”

“Not enough, apparently,” Koushi rasped, finding his voice at last. Miya crouched beside him and pulled him against his chest. 

“Don’t worry. You’re getting a fresh start. Oikawa’s pair brought in a couple kids. You should see if they suit you,” Miya advised. Koushi shook his head. 

“I don’t think…” 

“These two made you weak, Koushi. You need to prove you’re strong, or Daishou may not feel like you’re worth keeping around,” Miya told him coldly. Koushi shuddered. 

“All right. I’ll see them,” Koushi agreed, doing his best to force his voice back to his normal cheerful tone. “But...kids?”

“Well, they all seem like children when they first come in. Cowering and crying or shouting. Disgusting,” Miya snorted. “These two are about your age, though.” Koushi let Miya pull him to his feet and lead him out of the room. “I’ll have someone take out the trash. Your room will be clean when you get back, okay?” Koushi’s fingers clenched into fists.

How dare Miya call Daichi and Asahi trash? How  _ dare _ he? They’d been  _ good _ , too good for this life. They didn’t want to kill, and since they didn’t exactly become assassins by choice - no one did, as far as Koushi knew - it wasn’t their fault they didn’t live up to Miya’s expectations. 

“Here,” Miya announced, coming to a stop outside a room Koushi knew to be one of the ones Nishinoya used when implanting or repairing the assassins’ chips. “These two have just been fitted with chips and given Noya’s usual little speech. They’re all yours. If you want them, of course. If not, you can go find new recruits.” 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Koushi said hastily. Whether one or both of the people inside the room would work well with him, he was  _ not _ about to go pick some random person off the street and ruin their life, too. These two had already been captured, and they were being given to him. Koushi would do what he could to protect them - but he swore to himself that  _ this time _ , he wouldn’t get attached. 

“Do better this time, Koushi,” Miya warned. “Handle them the way I trained you to.”

“I will,” he answered quietly. 

Koushi opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. He glanced over the room, taking in the two examination tables, one on the right, one on the left. Each table had a man sitting on it. One was wild-looking, with spiked red hair that looked like it had been forced out of its intended style, sticking out to the side instead of straight up. The other appeared calmer, and studied Koushi, a frown turning his mouth downward. 

“What are your names?” Koushi asked. He guessed from Miya’s attitude that the two’s chips had been assigned to him, so he wasn’t worried about handling them, but he really wished he’d taken the time to ask Miya for their information. 

“Fuck you,” the redhead snapped. “What do you want with us?” Koushi could see the fear in the redhead’s wide eyes, and he was sure the quiet one was scared, too. But if he let himself take their fear into account, let himself try to comfort them, then he’d just end up with two more assassins he had to kill, like Daichi and Asahi. Koushi wasn’t sure he could take that anymore. 

“We should not antagonize him,” the quiet one spoke up, his words stiff and formal as he turned his gaze from Koushi to the redhead and back. “We should cooperate and bide our time.” 

“Except you just told him what your plan is, ‘Toshi,” the redhead complained, leaning away from Koushi as he moved closer to the new assassin. Koushi noted that the redhead seemed to be calling the quiet one by a nickname. Had they known each other before they were brought in?

“I am Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the quiet one said. “That is-”

“I want him to tell me,” Koushi interrupted, forcing his tone to be sharp and cold. He purposefully straightened, made himself stand tall and give the redhead a stern stare. “And if he doesn’t, he’ll regret it.” 

“What are you gonna do, torture me with some bullshit command like that short guy said before?” the redhead snapped. Koushi laughed, even as he wanted to fall down and cry. He had to live up to Miya’s expectations for him this time, or he and these two new recruits would all suffer. 

“No. Since I don’t know your name, I can’t use your chip to control you. However, you seem very familiar with Wakatoshi over there,” Koushi replied. He remembered how the other handlers acted - how Oikawa taunted and teased his pair, how Mizoguchi kept Iwaizumi and Kindaichi in line by being gruff and stern, how Semi snapped at Sakusa and Komori and handed out punishments if they hesitated - and stepped into the role he knew he needed to fill if Miya was going to believe Koushi was really just handling them the way Miya had taught him years ago. “And since he kindly told me his full name, I  _ can _ use his chip.”

“Wait, don’t-”

“Wakatoshi, down,” Koushi ordered, ignoring the redhead’s protest. Ushijima doubled over, a grunt of pain escaping him as he nearly tumbled off the examination table he sat on. Koushi kept his expression neutral even as the redhead scrambled around him and darted across the room to throw his arms around Ushijima. So he’d been right. They  _ did _ know each other. Koushi hoped they’d be able to rely on each other and cope, since he couldn’t afford to do much to help them himself. 

“Toshi? Toshi, are you okay?” the redhead demanded, pulling Ushijima against his chest and holding him tightly as the larger man shook and groaned in pain. 

“What’s your name?” Koushi asked coldly, turning to face them. The redhead glared at him and clamped his jaw shut. “I’ll make it stop if you tell me.” 

“Fuck you,” the redhead hissed, “He didn’t do anything. He told you what you wanted, so stop hurting him! If you’re gonna be an ass and hurt one of us, hurt me! I’m the one who-”

“I would,” Koushi interrupted. “But I have to know your name in order to punish you directly. Until you give in and tell me, I’ll just keep telling Wakatoshi  _ down _ -” Ushijima screamed, his body jerking helplessly as the agony tearing through him doubled. “-until you cooperate.”

“Tendou Satori!” the redhead shouted, trying to support Ushijima as he thrashed and screamed again. “My name’s Tendou Satori, now  _ leave him alone!” _ Koushi smiled, fighting back the urge to bend over and vomit, because  _ fuck _ he hated this. 

“Wakatoshi, enough,” Koushi ordered. Ushijima went limp in Tendou’s hold, panting and gripping the redhead’s shirt to steady himself. Tendou met his gaze defiantly, and Koushi had to remind himself not to show weakness. Not to show emotion. “Come with me. It’s time to see if you two are any good at following orders.” For a moment, neither moved. “Satori-”

“Wait,” Ushijima said hoarsely, pulling away from Tendou and getting to his feet. He swayed, and Tendou hurried to stand and support him again. “Do not hurt Satori. Please.” Koushi studied them, refusing to allow his expression to soften. 

“If you both cooperate, neither of you will get hurt. Didn’t Nishinoya tell you that’s how this works?” Koushi asked. Tendou and Ushijima exchanged wary glances. “Now. Like I said, it’s time to test you two. Will you cooperate?” 

“We will,” Ushijima confirmed, squeezing Tendou’s waist pointedly. Tendou huffed and nodded reluctantly. Koushi turned his back to them and led the way, telling himself he just had to keep up his act until…

_ Until when? _

He wasn’t sure, actually. Until Tendou and Ushijima died on a mission? Until Miya decided they weren’t useful?

He didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t show weakness. If he did, if he failed these two the way he’d ultimately failed Daichi and Asahi, it would mean that they had died in vain. 

Koushi couldn’t allow that. 


	3. Komori

Motoya moved among the people in the ballroom, scanning the crowd for his target. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten into this party in the first place - ballrooms weren’t exactly his style - but he’d gotten the invitation the same day he’d gotten the job to kill some fancy businessman. Well, Motoya was pretty sure the guy was in marketing, but the target was rated as a noncombatant, so Motoya figured it’d be an easy job. 

He believed that right up until he saw a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd. Motoya blinked, then made his way over to the young man leaning against the wall, watching the sea of people. 

“Sakusa Kyoomi, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Motoya hummed. Sakusa glanced at him, then tucked his face further into the decorative scarf around his neck. 

“Komori,” Sakusa greeted him. “Are you here to interfere with my mission again?” Motoya tutted and tilted his head back until it rested against the wall. 

“You make it sound like my goal in life is to pester you. Don’t you think that viewpoint’s a little self-centered?” he hummed. “Besides, what mission are you on that gets you this close to people? Isn’t your thing usually long-distance?” 

“My handler is going to ask questions if you stay here much longer,” Sakusa warned. Motoya sighed and shrugged as he pushed away from the wall. 

“Fine, fine, I won’t ask what you’re up to again. You should come dance with me, though,” he added cheerfully. 

“I don’t dance. I also don’t like crowds. And my handler would  _ definitely _ ask questions if I danced with you,” Sakusa informed him, not budging from his spot against the wall. 

“Shouldn’t you blend in or something, though?” Motoya pointed out. “Whatever your mission is, you’ll never accomplish it if you just stand there like - oh, hold that thought, I gotta do my job real quick, and then I’ll be back to lecture you about blending in.” Motoya slipped through the crowd, gaze locked on his target. 

Just before he reached him, however, someone stepped between him and his target, wearing a lavender gown that swirled around their feet and matched the violet tips of their short hair. 

For a second, Motoya was distracted by the lethally graceful way the person moved. Then said person glanced over their shoulder, and Montoya froze. 

He had thought Semi Eita retired over a year ago, before he’d started running into Sakusa on his missions. Apparently, he was wrong. Semi smirked at him, then turned his attention to Motoya’s target. 

“You’re Oujiyama, right? Could I have a private word with you?” Semi fluttered his eyelashes, and Motoya scowled as his target grinned and let Semi usher him to the edge of the crowd. Motoya tried to follow them, only to have Sakusa step into his path.

“Get out of the way, Sakusa!” Motoya hissed, trying to duck around him. Sakusa’s arm snaked out and wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against Sakusa’s chest. 

“Didn’t you want to dance?” Sakusa murmured. Motoya scowled at him. 

“Are you working with Semi?” he demanded. Sakusa shrugged, and Motoya considered how best to escape without hurting Sakusa, because he knew Sakusa was only there because his handler told him to. 

“Your target is Oujiyama, right?” Sakusa asked. 

“Of course. Are you and Semi trying to here for the bounty on him, too?” he asked, frowning.

“I don’t know anything about a bounty,” Sakusa told him. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he paused and lifted his free hand to his ear. Motoya took advantage of the momentary distraction and squirmed out of Sakusa’s hold. He slipped around him, headed in the direction Semi and his target had gone, only for Sakusa to turn and follow him. “My handler says it’s all right if you go to Oujiyama now,” Sakusa explained when Motoya cast a confused look in his direction. Motoya tensed, and it finally occured to him. 

“You always mention a handler, but you’ve never mentioned a name,” Motoya said hesitantly. They left the ballroom and turned a corner, and Motoya stopped in his tracks. Oujiyama lay in the hallway, limp and unmoving. Semi stood over him, glaring down at him. As Motoya watched, Semi lifted the skirt of his gown enough to keep the material out of the way, then pressed the unusually sharp heel of his delicate silver shoe to Oujiyama’s throat. 

“I brought him,” Sakusa announced. Semi looked up, saw the two of them standing there, and smiled as he put his weight on the foot over Oujiyama’s neck. There was a wet noise somewhere between a pop and a squelch as Semi’s heel punctured the target’s throat. His body jerked even in unconsciousness, and Semi lifted his foot. He stepped over the now-bleeding man on the floor and approached Sakusa and Motoya. 

“Thank you, Kyoomi. Would you hold him still for me?” Semi asked. 

“I believe he would come with us willingly,” Sakusa protested.

“Kyoomi, silence,” Semi ordered. Sakusa’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. Motoya was tempted to do the same - he had a sinking feeling he knew what was about to happen. After all, he’d had his suspicions that Sakusa belonged to Anguis Ophidio, and Motoya had encountered that particular group’s assassin-handler trios before. “Kyoomi, down.” 

Sakusa dropped, his mouth dropping open in a silent scream. He curled up, his large frame managing to seem small and helpless as he shook with the agony coursing through him. Motoya wanted to help, but he knew he couldn’t do anything. Once the snakes got their fangs into someone, they never let go. Motoya knew his presence was what had caused the conflict between Sakusa and his handler, so the best way to help Sakusa was to leave. 

Motoya whirled, ready to sprint for the ballroom.

“Komori Motoya, bounty hunter. I’ll be needing your skills,” Semi said conversationally, as though he hadn’t just sent Sakusa crashing to the floor in agony. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” Motoya called over his shoulder. “I work alone.”

“Kyoomi, enough. Bring him to me,” Semi ordered. Sakusa went limp, and Motoya ran - or tried to. Sakusa recovered just enough to reach out and grab Motoya’s ankle. 

“Sorry,” Sakusa panted. Motoya scowled and kicked Sakusa’s wrist with his other foot. 

“It’s okay. You can make it up to me next time,” Motoya told him as he scrambled to his feet. He made it as far as rolling over and getting to his knees before a sharp pressure on his spine drove him down again. Motoya hissed in pain, but didn’t dare move. Semi stood over him, one terrifyingly sharp heel pressed to Motoya’s back. 

“He can make it up to you when you wake up,” Semi corrected. “But my Kyoomi needs a partner, and I think you’ll do well with him.” Something pricked the back of his neck, and then the world went black. 

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any characters whose background you want to know, just tell me and I'll write them!


End file.
